


I'll Take This Over If You Let Me

by ChangeableConsistency



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fuck Cannon, Fuck Loki, Fuck is such a fun word!, I am queen of the procrastinators- I even made myself a crown, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multi, PHEEEELS, Phil - You Beautiful Slut, Phil Fucks Everyone, Phil's a fucking expert, Phil/EVERYONE, Spoilers, snipets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeableConsistency/pseuds/ChangeableConsistency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I should be finishing my XMFC RBB. Instead, Porn Happened,  interrupted by feels, and of course PHEELS. I am super terrible at warning labels, please let me know if you think something should be tagged/warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Take This Over If You Let Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Down by Blink 182

Fury tastes like nothing so much as clean leather. He likes Phil naked, on his knees. Fury leans back in his chair and keeps silent, his fingers a gentle weight on the back of Phil's neck. He tightens his fingers in Phil's hair, Phil's only warning, and Phil, like the good agent he is, needs no further prompting to swallow down the thick cock between his lips, pressing his nose into tight salt and pepper curls, remembering a time when they were both younger, when it wasn't as easy as it is now to keep swallowing, hot come pouring down his throat, his hands fisting at his sides as he forces himself, by will alone, to not come as well.

He sucks carefully as he pulls back, looking up to see Fury's sated smile.

"Good?" Fury asks softly, one eyebrow raised. And at Phil's shaky nod, "Then dismissed."

Phil stands, still ignoring his own dripping cock, and slowly gets dressed, nodding politely to Fury on his way out, who has done up his own pants and gone back to reading the report he'd been reviewing when Phil came into his office to ask a 'quick favor, boss?'.

... 

Maria is tart and sweet on his tongue and has no hesitation tell him exactly what to do and how. 

"There. There. Now suck my clit. That's it, suck it. Harder. Harder. Fucking HARDER God damn it. 

"Yes. Yes, like that. Faster. Faster. Fuck. Fuck yes. Fucking hell. YES."

She squeezes his head between her thighs as she comes, and then leans forward to grab his tie, pulling him up to lick his lips, following the taste of herself into his mouth.

...

The mission goes sideways and Barton drops off comm the moment Phil calls it. 

Clean up is well under way before he finally has time to climb up to Barton's perch, finding the sniper curled in on himself, bow clutched tight and fingers flexing, replaying the op over and over again.

"Hey," he murmurs.

"Sir," Barton's pained whisper barely reaches him, "I'm sorry, Sir. I just... There wasn't a clean... I couldn't..."

"Shh. I know. Come here." Phil sits next to him, and pulls Barton close. "It happens." 

Barton slowly relaxes against him. 

"We're done down there. Come with me back to the safe house. We can catch tomorrow's flight."  

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, Sir."

It's slow, and sweet, and when they wake up in the morning some of the pain has retreated from Barton's eyes.

...

Natasha likes to ride him as he grips the headboard, her hands holding his hips down as she rubs her slick cunt against his tongue. 

She makes him work for it, he thrusts his tongue into her rhythmically, licks between her wet folds, moans as her mouth comes within a whisper of his straining cock before she backs away. 

She finally twists her hips just right, her thumbs pressing bruises into his skin as she lets him get his lips on her clit.

She swears in Russian as she comes this time; it's always a different language, but he thinks this might mean progress. When she's done she stands up over him, his hands still tight on the headboard as she drags her thumb across his swollen lower lip. He holds in a whimper as she slowly licks herself off her thumb. 

It's the closest she ever gets to kissing him.

...

Pepper Potts is stunning, both in the blue evening gown she wears like armor, and the flashing hurt and anger in her eyes. 

He's a little surprised she agrees to his proposition, she's been very skilled at blowing him off; but she believes him when he promises to leave the shop talk at the door.  

He isn't sure how he feels about being a revenge fuck, which he is pretty sure is what this is, but once his head is between her legs he can't bring himself to care about anything else but making her come. She's warm and wet, and tastes (impossibly) like strawberries.

She thanks him when she's caught her breath. He hands her the carefully laid aside dress and says, more truthfully than she knows, "It was my pleasure, Ms. Potts." 

... 

Tony is, as always, behaving like a spoiled brat.  

Phil is tired of arguing with him and when Stark bites out, "Oh, blow me!" Phil responds with,"Will it shut you up for five minutes?" 

"Wait, what? Seriously?" 

The ten minutes of silence afterwards are the most beautiful thing Phil's ever heard.

...

Captain Rogers assumes it's just the modern equivalent of, "I have some lovely etchings I'd like to show you."

They're barely inside the door of Phil's room on the helicarrier before Steve's mouth is on his, large warm palms cupping his ass and pulling him close.

Phil wraps his arms around Steve's neck and moans as he feels Steve harden against his own rapidly swelling cock.

Phil breaks the kiss,"Can I.. I want to.." He slowly slips to his knees and begins to unbuckle Steve's pants.

"Oh! Yes. Please," Steve - Captain _fucking_ America- says. "I'd like that very much." 

His hands are gentle in Phil's hair as Phil fulfills his earliest sexual fantasy.

After Steve leaves, Phil carefully  puts the forgotten cards back into his locker with a whispered promise. "Next time."

...

There is no next time. 

Instead there's the cold sensation of Loki stabbing him in the back, after which everything is a blur. 

He's dead, he knows he's dead; but by God he's going to go down fighting for what he believes in. 

He's standing over his body, watching as the medics try to save him and as they call it he wonders why he's still here. 

Is he a ghost? 

Or is this just his last few neurons firing?  

Mostly, he prays he's done enough to save the world.

The last thing he expects is for the sky to open above him and a Wagnerian wet dream to ride down towards him. 

"You died well, Phillip, Son of Coul," one of the valkiryes proclaims.

The other offers her hand to him, pulling him astride her impossibly large horse as she shouts,  "Come, Valhalla awaits!"

...

He isn't sure how long he's been here, but at least he's in the best shape of his life. 

Afterlife. 

Whatever. Not the point. 

He looks at the scar on his chest, reflected in a silver platter he twists from side to side. He knows there's a matching line on his back.

All things considered, it's not a bad existence; though nothing but fucking, fighting, and drinking have started to wear thin.

The Bifröst is still being repaired, but there has to be another way for him to return to Midg- Earth. Back to Earth. 

It's becoming harder to hold on to his identity. More and more frequently he thinks of himself as Phillip, Son of Coul. 

When he catches those thoughts, he worriedly chants a silent litany, "I am Agent Phil Coulson of Stategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

He's even more worried when he considers how often he may not have noticed at all.

He's contemplating his next move as he carves S.H.I.E.L.D.'s eagle into the hilt of his sword. He's been searching the halls in a grid and he's running out of places to look.

And how fucked it is that he's trying to break out of Heaven?

He's mapped out his next route when a massive hand comes down on his shoulder. 

"Son of Coul!"

"Actually, it's Agent C...Thor?"

...

Thor whimpers softly whenever Phil slowly takes him apart with his mouth, which is often; and then roars like a freight train when he comes.

Now that he's got a handle on how time works here, he's in no rush to get home. Especially since he hasn't taken time off in... Well, ever. 

It figures he had to die to get a vacation. 

...

"You should talk to her."

"She's terrified of me. Him. Us. With good reason. He almost killed her."

"That's not why you scare her." 

Dr. Banner's eyebrow is eloquent in its non-response.

"Plenty of people have tried to kill her. She has a thing about being in control."

"Hmmm, and since I can't always control the other guy...?"

"Possible. But for my money, it's because you can't be killed. She tends to take the direct approach to problem solving. You need to provide her with a different solution."  


"Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like what you're about to suggest, Agent Coulson?"

"Death isn't her best weapon, Doctor, just her favorite."

"You think I should let her seduce me?" He laughs, "I was right, I don't like it."

"I know you've been working with Tony and Pepper-" Phil's interrupted by a load clang as Dr. Banner drops what he's working on.

"How." He stops and takes a deep breath. "Who have you been talking to?"

Dr. Banner picks up his tools again and, though his shoulders are tense, his voice is calm, "Is this what S.H.I.E.LD. agents are joking about around the water cooler?"

Phil rests his hand on Dr. Banner's shoulder, "No. No, Bruce, no one is laughing at you. No one else knows. Pepper and I are friends. She cares about you and asked for my advice."

"And you're an expert on how to fuck a guy who can turn into a... How did Tony put it? 'An enormous green rage monster'?" His quiet tone doesn't quite hide the guilt or fear lurking in his words.

"Something like that." Phil carefully moves his hand from Bruce's shoulder to the back of his neck, watching for any hint of a flinch, any indication of Bruce pulling away, of not wanting to be touched. Instead Bruce leans into his fingers, skin starved for sensation even with all the time he's been spending in Stark's bed.

"Let me show you?" He tangles his fingers in the thick curls at the base of Bruce's neck, his voice buttered confidence.

"I don't... I don't think this is such a good idea."

Phil gently tugs on Bruce's hair, "Then stop thinking."  

He releases his hold, tracing his hand back along Bruce's shoulder, down his arm, taking away his instruments and setting them on the counter. He slowly spins Bruce around on the stool.

"Nothing happens that you don't want to happen. If you say stop, we stop. And we only go if you say go." He cups Bruce's stubbled jaw, thumbs brushing over his cheek beneath his gorgeous, still very brown, eyes, "Your call."

Bruce fights with himself long enough that Phil pulls his hands away; sparking Bruce into motion. His hands are on Phil's hips, he closes his eyes and pulls Phil in close until the agent is straddling his lap.

Bruce's jaw scrathes against Phil's and he sighs into the fragile curve of his ear, "Go."

**Author's Note:**

> I am sure it's obvious, but I am in desperate need of a beta. Please let me know if you are interested; either in the comments or at paraprosdokia (at) yahoo (dot) com.


End file.
